


Whatever Weather

by rajko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Crossover Pairings, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rajko/pseuds/rajko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Groomed to be a vampire's mate since birth, Harry Potter never expected much out of life or his future mate, but all that changes when he meets Edward Cullen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Incident At Godric's Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before and during the events of both Harry Potter (1-7) and Twilight (1-4) with some very notable changes to both. I don't do character bashing so Bella and Ginny will both be present and accounted for in this story. Many assumptions are being made about the vampire lifestyle in this story, up to and including how their powers work, as well as how the wizarding world interacts with it. I don't pretend that vampires (or wizards) are all sunshine and light and flower filled meadows. They're dark creatures and I intend to keep them that way, even if the Cullens are "civilized".
> 
> Also, this is completely unbeta'd so beware.

The couple died in the early morning hours, their bodies icy cold and lifeless by the time the authorities came. There was no signs of trauma, not tell-tale wounds to suggest how they died. It was as though they had both just - dropped dead of natural causes.

No one, not even their nearest and dearest, could understand how that could happen. They were both too young and healthy. Even their neighbors, the ones who looked out their windows at the faintest noise, could not explain what happened at Godric's Hollow that day.

"It was just so shocking," Vermelda Hopgood said, face pale as she bobbed her tea ball into her cup one last time. "I had just seen James and Lily not two days past. They seemed fine. A little overworked, maybe, but just fine. James had said they were planning to go on holiday soon. Somewhere in Scotland."

Looking to her companion, she shook her head, eyes sad behind her spectacles. "They left behind a son, did you know? Little Harold. No one really knows whats to become of him, though I did hear the constable say something about an aunt and uncle. They're trying to locate them, I imagine. Poor dear."

Placing her teacup down, Vermelda leaned forward, nudging a plate of biscuits towards her visitor. "Are you sure you don't want one, my dear? They're quite good."

Esme Cullen smiled and shook her head. "No, thank you, Mrs. Hopgood. I'm trying to cut back," she explained, fingers fluttering to her waistline. It was a decidedly small one and Vermelda chuffed.

"Tsh, dear," she said, fingers sifting through the biscuits until she found a large one. "You hardly need to lose an ounce." Taking a bite, she waved it in the air in front of her. "I don't understand you young woman today, always wanting to be bone thin. Men like women with meat on their bones; keeps them warm at night. Gives them something to hold on to, trust me."

Another bite and she placed her half-eaten biscuit on her saucer, carefully wiping the crumbs from her fingers. "What was I saying...? Oh, yes. The Potters. Well, it's a tragedy to be sure, especially with young little Harold losing both his parents at the same time. Poor boy. I hope they find his relatives soon. I'd hate to think of him in foster care, though after looking into those eyes of his I doubt they'll have any problems placing him."

"His eyes?" Esme prompted, expression strangely intent. Vermelda hardly noticed.

"Oh my, yes," she cried, her own eyes crinkling at the corners. "Greenest eyes I've ever seen, even compared to Lily's. They all but glowed when he was happy. Had the cutest little laugh, too. Sounded just like James, now that I think about it."

"How old was he?"

"I'd say about a year or so. It's so hard to tell these things," she mused, confidingly. "I never had children, you see, so it's hard for me to judge, but he couldn't have been older than a year. James and Lily - well, they weren't around much until he was born. After that, they came and went but always seemed to come back home."

Sighing, Vermelda took up the last of her tea, sipping it slowly. "It breaks my heart to see them gone, but life has a funny way of surprising you, even when you don't want it to."

"It certainly does," her visitor echoed, seemingly distracted before springing to her feet. "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Hopgood, but I think I had better be going. My husband and children will be waiting for me. Oh, no, please don't get up," she protested when Vermelda made to stand. "I can see myself out. Thank you for the tea and for letting me know what happened. It was very...helpful. Thank you."

Blinking, Vermelda nodded. "Of course, my dear. I'm happy to help. I do hope your family decides to move here, even with everything that's happened."

The woman nodded, a tense smile spreading on her lips before she was out the door and down the path. Vermelda sighed, warming her fingers against the sides of her teacup. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned what had happened down the lane at Godric's Hollow. It did seem to scare off quite a few potential neighbors.

***

"We have to find him," Esme said, voice hushed as she stared into the distance. "I don't care what that woman said about finding his relatives. We need to find him."

"Esme..."

"No, Carlisle," she broke in, pleading eyes turning towards her husband. "We have to find him. I know he's just a baby, I know we're in no position, but he's all alone in the world. He's all alone and we could do something about that. Please, just think about it."

"You know I will," Carlisle soothed, quietly. "I want him with us as much as you do, even more perhaps, just to see my son so happy, but he's only a child. How could he survive with us?"

"We could raise him..."

"Accidents happen," he reminded, expression kind but firm. "Even ones that have nothing to do with us. Children get scraps and scratches; they hurt themselves without meaning to on a daily basis. How would it be fair to bring a child into our house when our own children still struggle with their control?"

"Edward would protect him," Esme denied. "I know he would. So would I. So would you, and Alice..."

"And Emmett and Rosalie," he finished, pointedly. "But that doesn't mean that something wouldn't happen. Harry - he deserves to have a normal childhood. One where he can run, play, and accidentally scratch himself without fear that one of his family members is going to lose control and hurt him."

"But," his wife protested, "we could try, couldn't we? I'm sure that Alice would 'see' if anything horrible was going to happen and Edward would be there for him. Together, as a family, I'm sure we could do it."

Shaking his head, Carlisle sighed. "It isn't that simple, Esme. You and I both know that Alice's visions are subjective. If something horrible were to happen and she didn't see it beforehand, she would never forgive herself. Neither would Edward for that matter."

"But..."

"It's not only that," he interrupted, gently. "Harry deserves to grow into his own person. One who isn't influenced by our own needs or," he hesitated, lips pulling down into a grimace. "Or Edward's."

"How can you say that?" Esme exclaimed, golden eyes flashing. "Edward would -"

"Smother him," Carlisle cut in, features placid despite her sudden burst of anger. "He wouldn't mean to do it, but his desire to protect his mate would force him to extremes. It isn't like what we have, Esme; we chose each other. Edward's instincts will be driving him, his love for his mate will be all consuming. He won't have the control or the inclination to share, not when Harry is so young. Don't you think that the child deserves better than that?"

For a long, quiet moment, his mate stared at him, her body taunt with protest, before she shifted, shoulders relaxing slowly. "You sound as though you've already made up your mind about this..?"

"I suppose I have," he said, fingers smoothing over the fringe of her blouse, wishing there was something he could say to make things better. "It's for the best, Esme. Even if you don't see it now, it's for the best."

Nodding slightly, Esme closed her eyes. "I just wish I knew what to say to Edward. He's expecting the boy from Alice's vision to come home with us; he doesn't know that Harry's only a baby. It'll be hard to watch him, always waiting for his mate to be old enough."

Smiling, Carlisle pulled her into his arms. "He's waited this long, my love. I don't think he'll mind waiting another few years. Not for Harry."


	2. Little Boy Obliviate

The local constabulary was hardly the place for a child, especially one as young as the boy currently residing in Inspector Cooper's arms, but that was neither here nor there as far as he was concerned. The child was here now, and it was his duty to make sure that the little one was comfortable until the civil service matron came to collect him. Which should be any time now, he reflected, shifting the child in his arms.

"I'm sorry about this, love," Cooper murmured, carefully brushing a stray wisp of black hair from the toddler's forehead. An angry looking slash, jagged and puffy, stood out in stark relief on the boy's pale forehead, a terrible reminder of just how horribly wrong his young life had gone. "I'm sure the matron will be around soon. She'll get you settled up nicely at the orphanage."

The sleeping baby gurgled, a small-confused frown fluttering over his features before smoothing again. It tore at Cooper's heart. He'd been in law enforcement since the end of university, taking the road less traveled by flouting his hoped for business degree and enlisting in the nearest police training academy. It had been hard - harder than he'd ever thought it would be - but he didn't regret it. Not a single day, and days like today were proof of that.

What had happened to the boy's parents, it was a tragedy…and mystery. James and Lily Potter had been the picture of health; young, agile, and in the prime of their lives. There wasn't a single reason why they should be dead. Even when they'd called in the crime scene unit, the responding officers cornered about the doors blown off their hinges and the disquieting burn marks pockmarking the walls, they'd found little more than a fingerprint, unmatched, in the entire home. Print aside, the biggest pieces of evidence they had were the (possible) victims bodies and their son, Harry.

Closing his eyes, Cooper sighed. It was a shame, a horribly bloody shame, and the little boy in his arms was paying the price for it. Even if he didn't know it yet.

"How's he doing, then?" A quiet voice asked from behind them. Turning, Cooper's lips twitched into a crooked smile when he saw who it was: Gwen Donovan was a junior PC-in-training. Blond, perky, and generally underfoot whenever something was happening, he'd liked her instantly; preferring her spunky presence to the dour old maids around the station.

"Not bad," he replied, eyes drifting to the wicker basket she held her arms. "He was a little fussy earlier, but settled quickly. What's all that?"

"Oh," Gwen said, grinning. "I found this in storage. I thought you'd appreciate it."

Without further ado, she set the basket on his desk with a bit more flourish than it deserved. Medium sized and egg-shaped, it was filled with soft blankets and a small terrycloth towel for a pillow. In the corner, a diminutive stuffed bear with bobby hat and badge was placed, its brown bead-eyes solemn.

"It's just," she said, happily fluffing the blankets. "The CS matron hasn't come by yet and with all the commotion going on in the streets, I thought it'd be nice if you had something proper to put him in. It'd give your arms a break anyway, and," she flashed him another grin, "everyone's tired of seeing you get all soppy over him, Coop."

Rolling his eyes, Cooper stood, gently placing his sleeping burden into the basket. "Very fun, Donovan. I'd like to see you spend time with him and not get 'soppy'. Now," he continued, once he was sure the boy wouldn't wake. "What's this about a commotion? Please don't tell me there's been another waste services strike. The last one nearly did me in."

Gwen shook her head, blond ponytail bobbing. "No, just some strange characters seen around London, wearing capes and causing an uproar. There's been at least ninety calls in the last few hours complaining about them."

"Odd," Cooper mused, scratching his chin absently. He had a days worth of stubble, too busy with taking care of paperwork and a whimpering baby to have time for his daily ablutions. "I didn't notice anything when I drove in this morning. Maybe it's some kind of amateur theatrics? Is there a panto going on we don't know about?"

Shrugging, the blond tucked a bit more blanket around his charges' feet. "I can check into it if you like but I think it's probably someone having a lark at our expense. One of those groups up at the university or a rally of some kind."

"Possibly," he agreed, leaning back. The chair squeaked beneath him, the sound high-pitched and annoying enough to make him freeze and eye the sleeping toddler warily. Little Harry sighed, lips smacking noisily, before settling back into sleep. Cooper slumped, relieved.

"Check into it anyway for me, would you?" He persisted, more quietly this time. "I might not be anything more than a glorified babysitter at the moment but I'd like to keep my hand in. Particularly if the matron comes by soon."

Gwen nodded, eyes sparkling. "Need anything else before I go? Paper, ink, coffee, nappies?"

Sighing, he shook his head. "Just the coffee, please, and let me know about that panto, if there is one. I'd hate to write a citation over something as silly as performance art."

"You've no culture," Gwen declared, before wandering off for his coffee and, quite possibly, some nappies, too.

 

***

The stunned silence was damning, at least as far as she was concerned. Alice Cullen stared at her brother, chest tightening at the look of confusion, anger, and pain on his face. It was her fault. She was the one who had given him so much hope, however unintentionally, and she was the one who had pressed him to follow it.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she apologized, not for the first time. "If I had known -"

"But you didn't," her brother interrupted, haunted eyes drifting to her own. "I saw as much as you did and I didn't think..." He trailed off, shrugging. "It's all right. Maybe - maybe he wasn't my mate after all."

"Edward," Alice implored, faltering. "He's your mate; I promise you. It's just that the timing was off, that's all. Next time I'll pay more attention; try to figure out how much longer you have to wait. I'm sure it won't be long."

"That's right, dear," Esme exclaimed from beside her, tone decidedly anxious. No one could blame her. Of all their family, Edward had always been the most difficult when it came to the subject of 'mates' and 'love'. He had never believed that he deserved either, convinced that his soul was lost the moment he had been changed and this, Alice knew, would be the making of him. One way or another.

"Only a few more years and he'll be of age," Esme continued, warming to the subject. "It's not so very long and you - we can get things ready for him in the meantime. I'll design a house. For all of us. Rosalie and Emmett, they've been away too long, and we'll need to move in a few years anyway. It'll be perfect."

"No," Edward denied, softly. "No, he's not my mate. Alice; she would have seen, would have known, if this was going to happen. Whatever that vision was, it wasn't this. It was just some, some, fluke."

"She doesn't have 'flukes'," Jasper interjected seriously. He was seated on the other side of her, his hand resting comfortingly on her thigh. The strain of their family's turbulent emotions was obvious on his face and even without looking, she could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. "Alice may only see snapshots, bits and pieces of the future, but only when decision are made. You know that. This boy, toddler, is going to be your mate and you need to start accepting that."

The 'now' was unspoken but definitely heard if her brother's face was anything to go by. Alice sighed, laying her hand on top of Jasper's. He squeezed it reassuringly.

"He's a child," Edward replied, standing in agitation. "Alice didn't see a child. She -"

"I know what I saw," she interrupted, though not unkindly. "I also know that my having this vision so early can only mean one thing: you're destined to have him, whether he's a child right now or not."

Closing his eyes, Edward trembled. "I wish he was older. I wish he was..."

 _Here_.

Alice was beside him in an instant, arms wrapping around his waist. "He will be," she promised, hugging him close. "One day."

 

***

Jacqueline Jones, Civil Service Matron to the greater London area, had seen quite a bit in her long life. Orphaned during the war, bounced from foster home to foster home, she had seen too much, done too much, and been a part of too much to be surprised. The fact that she was today didn't bode well for anyone.

"What do you mean, you 'don't have a baby here'?" She demanded, frowning at the perky blond behind the police station's main desk. "You have to have one! My office was called not two days ago about coming to pick the boy up."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the blond said, voice firm but cheerful. "We don't have a child in custody at the moment. Perhaps you've come to the wrong station..?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jacqueline snapped, slapping her paperwork onto the desk. "It says right here I'm supposed to pick-up a one year old boy, Harry James Potter, at this station. Now," she squinted at the girl's name tag, "Officer Donovan, I don't know about this station, but my office doesn't make mistakes like that and if you think -"

"Is there a problem here?" A voice broke in, sounding authoritatively curious. Jacqueline turned, staring hard at the police officer before her. He was tall and lean, with at least a days worth of stubble and the kind of bloodshot eyes she associated with long nights and little sleep.

"Yes, there is," she said, at the same time the perky blond said, 'no, sir'. She resisted the urge to snort. "There is," she persisted, when the girl stayed quiet. "I was told you had a child here in custody, a boy, and I'm here to pick him up. I'm from the Civil Service Office, Matron Jacqueline Jones."

A look of surprise fluttered over the man's features. "Inspector Cooper, Matron Jones, and I'm afraid we haven't any children in custody at the moment. Haven't done in well over two months."

"That's impossible," Jacqueline replied, turning to scoop up the paperwork. "I have all the documents here. I know we've been a little busy at the CSO but someone would have told me if there was a cock-up like this."

Moving forward, the Inspector took the papers, glancing over them with a small frown. His eyes lingered for a moment on the boy's name before he shook his head and handed them back. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we haven't had any children come through here. I can check with other stations if you like-"

"No," she interrupted, irritation mounting. "Thank you, Inspector. I know I came to the right station. It seems that someone is playing a prank on me." Glaring at both of them suspiciously, she turned on her heels, marching towards the door. There was nothing more she could do here, but this wasn't going to be the end of it. Not by far.

Shoving open the main door, she made her way down the stairs, ignoring the riffraff that was being escorted up them. This was an outrage, an absolute outrage. If this was some sort of false report, there would be hell to pay, and if it wasn't and the police station managed to misplace that poor child, she was going to make sure each and every one of the local law enforcement felt her wrath for it.

"Damn fools," she muttered, never noticing the jet of white heading towards her or the softly whispered ' _obliviate_ '.


	3. A Jump In Time

The eight year old touched the pillar next to him, watching as another group of tourists passed by, their eyes wide and shining at the splendor around them. Harry felt sorry for them, sorry and sick that they didn't know what they were about to walk into, and wished he could call out to them, tell them not to go any further on their tour. It would be feudal, however, and only sign his own death warrant so he did nothing as he watched them, trying to memorize their faces. It was what he did every time and it never got any easier.

"Harold," a voice said from behind him, hard and impatient. "You know you're not supposed to be here. Aro forbid it."

Turning, Harry stared up at his keeper, face wiped clean of the turmoil he felt inside. Jane - never Aunt Jane or sister Jane - looked down at him, a strangely intent look in her eyes that he knew didn't bode well for him. Ever since he could remember, she had been responsible for him, taking him from place to place to be taught, groomed, and trained. That she openly disliked him and her responsibility towards him was plain, and he sometimes wondered, in that distant way he had developed, if she would have done with it and him one day.

"I was just going to my next lesson," Harry replied, thankful that it was at least partly true. He  _had_ been going to his next lesson, even if he had been ten minutes late and dreading the trouble he would get into for it.

"You're to be fitted for new clothes," she said eventually, red eyes boring into him. It made him shiver, as it always did. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Jane had once been like him: human.

Plucking at his jumper, he frowned. "I haven't grown out of these yet."

"It doesn't matter," Jane snapped, mouth tightening into a hard line. "I won't have you whining at me like last time." With that, she turned, her robes flaring out behind her like the wings of a bat.

Sighing softly, Harry followed and pointedly didn't look behind him when the screams started.

 

***

Tanya Denali crouched low in the snowbank, her golden eyes fixed unblinkingly on the still figure just a few yards away from her. Though she knew it was pointless to hide, she still did it, enjoying the challenge of maybe one day surprising her victim. Blowing a bit of strawberry blond hair from her eyes, she shifted, careful to keep her mind impossibly blank as her muscles coiled tightly and she sprang...

...and landed face first in the middle of the snow, her intended target having taken a single step to the side just in time. Grumbling, she pushed herself to her elbows and glared up at Edward Cullen. "I'll get you one of these days."

"I really doubt it," Edward returned, expression bemused. "You think too loud. Even when you're trying not to."

Rolling her eyes, she eased herself onto her back, shirt pulling tight across her stomach as she stared up at the grey-white clouds above her. It was going to snow soon, the fat fluffy clouds hanging low above them. She liked it when it snowed; it made pretending to be human that much more easy.

" _You've been missing for a while,_ " she thought, glancing at him curiously. " _They were beginning to get worried so I volunteered to come find you. You're becoming predictable, hiding out here all the time."_

"Hiding," Edward murmured, soft enough to make her blink. "Is that what it seems like I'm doing? Hiding?"

" _It seems that way to me_ ," she offered, pushing herself to her feet in a blur of motion. " _You're always out here, away from everyone else. Including me..."_ Reaching out, she tried to touch him, fingers connecting with empty air despite her speed.

"Tanya," Edward warned, tone wary. "My feelings for you haven't changed. I'm sorry but I'm just..."

"Not interested," she sighed, hand falling to her side. "I know you're not. I had to try, though." Smiling, she shrugged. "Still friends?"

For a moment, he stared at her, golden eyes flickering over her face before nodding. "Of course. You always will be."

Smile widening, she nodded back. She didn't have to be a mind reader to hear the unspoken 'just a friend' tacked on to the end of that sentence. Unfortunately.

"Then as a friend," she continued, crossing the few feet he'd put between them when he'd moved. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you? I swear I won't tell anyone else unless you want me to but they are worried about you. So am I."

Daringly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, happy when he didn't immediately pull away from her. Though it had been a few years since she first tried (unsuccessfully) to get him into her bed, she still considered him to be one of her most favorite people in the world. That he was handsome, with a boyish charm and untidy hair that she wanted to tangle her fingers in, certainly didn't hurt matters.

Running a hand through his hair, Edward exhaled, lips pulling down at the corners. "Do you ever think about your mate? I mean, your future mate?"

"Not really," she replied, head cocking to the side thoughtfully. "I used to when I was younger, but it's been so long since then," she shrugged, gesturing vaguely. "I can't live my life waiting for someone who might not be out there."

Frowning, she stepped in front of him, hand dropping from his shoulder as she looked into his eyes. They were darkening, threads of black beginning to seep into gold. "Is that what's bothering you? Not having a mate yet? Because-"

"But if you knew," he continued over her. "That your mate was out there and that he was..."

"...was..?" She prompted when he trailed off, curious despite herself. It had been years since she'd given any real thought to having a mate, years more since she'd bothered to talk about it with anyone outside of her sisters. "Was what, Edward?"

"Nothing," he responded, closing his eyes. When he opened them, they were golden again. "Nevermind. It was just...wishful thinking." Smiling wearily, he cocked his head in the direction she'd just come. "We'd better get back."

"But Edward," she started, hand lifting only to realize that she was once again reaching for thin air.

 

***

Face set into stoic lines, Remus Lupin walked silently through the darkened halls of Azkaban Prison, heart feeling as though it was being ripped from his chest. It felt that way every time he came here; the oppressive atmosphere and maddened screams of its inmates tearing at him and making him ache inside. That his best mate was here, behind these walls, made it all the worse.

Sirius Black was many things, but a maddened killer and agent of the Dark Lord wasn't one them. Remus knew that, even if no one else did, and to see the man slowly be pushed to the brink of sanity was like a nightmare that would never end. Especially for someone as bright and vivacious as his friend had once been.

' _I can't keep doing this_ ,' he lamented dully. ' _I can't. I'm sorry, Sirius. I love you like a brother, a pack mate, but I just...I can't.'_

Nodding distantly to a nearby guard, Remus stepped into one of the waiting lifts, vowing, if only to himself, that he would never set foot here again. Even if it killed him. And Sirius.


	4. Quiet Places

Esme stared down at the blueprint in front of her, satisfaction glowing bright in her chest. It was done. It was finally done; the house, their house, the home she'd been pining for, was finally done.

Setting her technical pen aside, she leaned back in her chair, admiring the fine black lines she'd just finished drawing. It was going to be a beautiful home; she could almost imagine it, with it's wide open spaces, floor to ceiling windows, and spacious bedrooms that would give all her children a place to be themselves. It would be a safe haven that they could be a family, a real family, in.

Smiling at the thought, she pushed away from the desk, leaving her draft to dry while she went in search of her husband and chosen mate. Perhaps he would know a place, a perfect place, that they could build their future home.

 

***

The blood in his mouth tasted of salt and rust. The bitter essence of love and disappointment. Of pain and fear.

Severus Snape jerked awake, the tender vestiges of his dream clinging to his skin and clouding his mind. "Lily," he gasped, gazing about the room wildly, half-expecting to see the witch there, within arms reach. Her green eyes warm and comforting. Her smile alive and promising. Her...

She wasn't there. Of course, she wasn't there. How could she be?

Lifting a shaking hand, he pressed his fingers to his eyelids, ignoring the moisture that had gathered beneath them. "You're a fool, Severus Snape," he muttered, chest aching sharply. "A stupid bloody fool."

 

***

Barty Crouch Jr. stared at the spread before him, tongue flicking out the side of his mouth in glee. Chicken and ham sandwiches, jacket potatoes, green veg, custard tarts and a glass of Amber Shine to wash it all down with; he was in heaven. Pure and utter heaven.

Disregarding manners, he dug into his meal like a man half starved, fighting back the moans of pleasure that wanted to escape. He hadn't eaten this good in...years. Not since before Azkaban, anyway, and he was going to enjoy every bloody second of it, especially now that he knew he no longer had to live on the raggedy edge of wizarding society; hiding in shadows and living the life of a street urchin.

He was free now; away from the hold of his treacherous father and the blasted Ministry the man held so dear. He could finally ( _finally_ ) enjoy the fruits of his labor from all those years ago, when he'd snatched a baby,  _the_ baby, from the tender mercies of his care givers and fled. He hadn't known then what he would do with the boy, the mere child who had killed his master, but it had come to him in time, washing away the fog that had swirled in his mind.

He would use the boy as leverage. Offer him up as a sacrifice, a powerful temptation, to a race that his lord had once spoken of in hissing thirst. He'd wanted them on his side in the war, before everything had gone to ruin and waste and...

"Can I get you anything else, sir?"

Twisting sharply, Barty glared at the filthy muggle who'd spoken, wand hand twitching. He wanted to kill her; torture her until she bled all over the polished floor. He wanted to make her dance until her feet were raw and bloody. He wanted to teach her a lesson.

But he couldn't. Not here. Not now.

"Leave," he ordered, watching in satisfaction as she blanched and turned, leaving him to his meal and his solitude. He spelled the door shut behind her, grinning nastily when it nearly slammed closed on her hand. Filthy disgusting things, muggles.

Turning back to his sandwich, he bit into it viciously, the swell of pride and satisfaction burning in his veins. To think that just a few years ago he'd been rotting in stagnation and now he was here, eating food that wasn't half-spoiled and being waited on hand and foot by a muggle who feared him. It was heady and delicious, and not even Bellatrix Lestrange had managed that.

The Dark Lord would be pleased. The Dark Lord...

Barty shivered in pleasure, tongue flicking out. He could feel his master out there, sometimes. Watching and waiting, biding his time until he could rise again and make the world tremble under his rule.

Turning over his arm, sandwich falling forgotten to the floor, he traced the faded lines of his dark mark lovingly. The ink was growing darker. He was sure of it.

Grinning widely, he closed his eyes, allowing himself just a moment to imagine how pleased his lord would be with him and all he had done in his absence. After all, he was the reason the vampires were on their side. The  _right_  side.

 

***

The letter came in a flurry of wings, a large brown barn owl circling around his head once, twice, three times before settling on his bedpost. Harry blinked, green eyes widening when he realized it was the same owl from yesterday. The one that had carried a letter, the same letter, it seemed, that it now held out to him, beak snapping irritably when he didn't immediately take it.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes drinking in the cream colored parchment and its purple wax seal. The wax was in the shape of a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding the letter H. He wanted to grab it, snatch it from the owl and hide it away. "But I've been forbidden to take that. Not unless someone sees it first."

"Which is why I'm here," a voice said from behind him. The eleven year old flinched, head immediately bowing as Jane's brother, Alec, strode into the room, red eyes flicking to and away from him dismissively. "Go back to your studies, Harold."

"But..."

"Do not test me," Alec warned, hands a blur of motions as he untied the letter from the owl's leg and turned back to the door. His crimson eyes pinned Harry with a stare. "Remember, tomorrow you will continue your training with me."

Back stiffening, Harry turned back to his studies, hand unconsciously rubbing at the thin white line of scar tissue that adorned his left wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on Barty Jr: In Potter Canon, Barty Jr escapes from AP only to spend over 10 years Imperiused in his father's house. That's obviously not the case here. 
> 
> For those who have read this fic elsewhere: I'm just trying to get my fics up-to-date here and then I'll be posting new chapters. Thank you for the support!


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